Shotguns In The Hall
by Rumsey
Summary: Prentiss Garcia and Morgan find themselves in a precarious and possible dire situation when they find themselves on the defensive against a vengeful UnSub.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N – I figure not many people read this type of thing, and I tend to write long ones, so thanks to those who are stayin' with me through this little blurb. Most of my fics will have little to no romance, though I tend to focus heavily on developing platonic relationships, so shippers can really interpret these how they like. I'm not usually a fan of Garcia, that being said, I do sometimes become touched by little scenes between her and other characters, particularly Emily. So, clearly, I've decided to expand upon that. I hope my relative indifference toward Garcia hasn't corrupted my ability of capturing her character.**

 **Please feel free to let me know if I've strayed from either of the characters as that is one of the most important parts of fanfiction to me. Constructive criticism is welcome, if not encouraged. Hate reviews are not. I'm going to school for writing, but creative writing remains to be one of my weaker areas, so I'm using this as practice. I'm looking for a beta too, so hit me up ;) - Again, I hope you all enjoy.**

 **I don't own Criminal Minds.**

 _"And if you make it past the shotguns in the hall, dial the combination, open the priesthole, and if I'm in I'll tell you what's behind the wall"_

 _-Pink Floyd, The Final Cut_

"Nothing. Nada. Zilch." Garcia's head goes straight to her hands. "This guy's a total ghost," She mumbles. Emily's pacing - she's got this look on her face like she's got all the pieces together, but the last one just doesn't fit. Morgan is sitting next to Garcia, shaking his head.

"He's out for revenge on authority figures - you'd think he'd at least try taunting us by now," He sighs.

"Maybe he doesn't want to waste his time. Maybe he has something bigger planned," She brainstormed mildly.

"Like what?" Morgan looks perplexed. She just shakes her head

"I dunno" she sighed. The three of them are holed up in Sheriff Wagner's home - in this small town, there isn't much room or resources for an extra team. In light of that, the sheriff graciously offered his own home as a spot for Garcia o set up her gear. They had all set up in the kitchen and that's where they all remained, stuck in an ideological rut.

Emily stops her pacing when Morgan's stomach lets loose a very audible and quite comedic growl. SHe looks at him with a raised brow, the slightest smirk etched on her face. Garcia actually chuckles.

"Trying to tell us something, Morgan?" She's holding in more laughter.

"What?" He asks defensively. "I haven't eaten anything today, babygirl. What did you think would happen when Derek Morgan starts runnin' on empty?" He raises his brows, returning the mischeivous smile. Emily responds with a good natured roll of her eyes, and an amused grin as she leans back on the counter.

"Maybe some food would be a good idea," she suggests, looking pointedly at Morgan. Garcia casts the same glance his way and he realizes where this is going. He scowls.

"Come on," he says in protest as emily tosses him the keys to the SUV

"It's your turn" She reminds him. He catches them with a good natured sigh.

"Text me your orders, we're getting Chinese." Emily shrugs

"Fine with me" She smile cheekily as he sends hem a hearted wave before disappearing through the front door. Emily props herself on the counter, the slightly dejected look returning to her face. "Anything new?" She stares at he computer screen, little hope in her eyes. The tech sighs.

"Honey, trust me, if there was, you'd know" She leans back in her seat. Emily shakes her head.

"I can't believe he's taking so long to make contact with us. He wouldn't just go off grid, he wants our attention… It doesn't fit the profile…" she muses aloud. Garcia opens her mouth to respond when the lights suddenly go out. She lets out a small startled yelp, and Emily hears the feverish taping of fingers on keyboards before Garcia's voice erupts through the darkness once more. "No, no, no!" she's frustrated with her equipment. Only her laptop remains operable.

"The hell?" Prentiss finally speaks before the room finally lights up again. They booth share a perplexed look, but Emily's eyes flicker with slight suspicion. "It's not even storming, why would the power for the entire house go out?" She asked, almost to herself.

"Em?" Garcia sounds nervous. Emily picks up the vest she'd worn earlier in the day when they'd barged into Barry Brooks' abandoned home, and strapped it on. She un-holsters her gun.

"Stay here" She said quietly to Garcia. When she saw the tech's fearful expression, she added, "It's probably nothing. I'm just checking things out." With that Emily disappeared into the next room.

Garcia is a bit tense as Emily disappears, and it's only getting worse. She wonders nervously if the lights will go out again - but this time they'd be separated.

"Em?" She calls nervously. The only thing she hears are the muffled footsteps of her friend as she slowly examines the empty house.

Garcia nearly jumps out of her seat when she hears the glass of the living room window shatter, but that scare is nothing compared to the sounds that follow. A muffled sort of hitting sound, a low pained grunt that was definitely Emily's, and the unceremonious thud of a body hitting the ground.

"Emily?!" Garcia shoots up and runs toward the living room, her voice high pitched with worry. She is surprised when she hears the strained reply –

"Down, get down" Emily's voice is pained and a little breathless, but strong. Garcia drops to her knees just before entering the living room. She crawls in further and a gasp escaps her lips when she sees Prentiss on her back in the middle of the floor. Her eyes are closed and her brows knit as though fighting away the pain. She finally opens them and glances toward Garcia as she hears the tech scrambling toward her…

"Oh my god, are you hit?" She asks, looking for any signs of blood.

"Vest" Emily breathed. Garcia could have cried in relief as she finally laid eyes on the Kevlar, but there is still a shooter out there and the only agent in the house is still hurt - even though the only emotion she let show was deep annoyance. Garcia helps her up to a sitting position and Emily winces, holding her ribs. The profiler looks at her somewhat apologetically and that makes her nervous.

"Garcia, I need you to find some place to hide and call Morgan. Now. Go." Her voice is urgent, both unaware of the shooter's whereabouts.

"Emily, I'm not going to leave you." Garcia says, fear putting a quiver in her voice. Emily's look is almost pleading.

"I'll be fine, but if someone comes in here and finds the both of us, there will be nothing you can do. Do you understand that? The best thing you can do for me right now is stay hidden and get Morgan." The tech looks like she's about to object, frightened tears only pricking at her eyes, but Prentiss speaks before she can.

Garcia please trust me." Garcia nods finally.

"Please be careful" worry makes the tears grow thicker. Emily merely nods, shifting so that she's on her knees, gun in her hands in preparation as Garcia goes off to hide. Emily finds she is able to stand with minimal issues once she moves from the window and out of the line of fire. It's dark out, and probably a terrible idea to chase the UnSub outside, injured with no back up. Not to mention he probably has a good view of the front of the house, and would be sure to compensate for the hit to the Kevlar with a bullet in the head. No, she would wait for him to come to her.

She stands hunched beside the front door, either waiting for the UnSub to try and come in, or for signs that Morgan has returned. The more time passes, the more tense she becomes and the more she begins to feel that throbbing ache in her ribs. The vest is absolutely suffocating. At the same time, she begins to feel hopeful as the likelihood the shooter had run away increases, but it is immediately smothered when she turns around to see him standing just down the hall in the back doorway.

She doesn't have time to raise her gun before he pulls the trigger. Twice.

* * *

 _This is not necessarily my first attempt at Criminal Minds fanfiction, but it's the first story I'm going to post. Mostly because it's short, quick, and I'd really like to gauge your responses to my writing style before I go all out with a really long fic (I have a couple in the works but none of them are even close to ready for posting – I'm a terrible procrastinator). Chapters will be relatively short, so I won't wait an entire week before updating. Most likely it'll take me two to three days. If you like to see your favorite characters put through the ringer, you might like this story_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N - Since that last chapter was so short, again, I decided I'd update pretty quickly. This one's a bit longer, so I may wait a couple more days until updating again, but who knows. I have most of this story written so all I have to do is edit the next chapter - you may get an early surprise. That being said I still have to give myself some leeway to finish the story and have it updated relatively regularly. Who knows. You can expect another chapter in a week at most. Yep, I'll just leave it at that. Hopefully you enjoy this one!**

 **I don't own Criminal Minds**

 **CHAPTER 2**

 _"She stood in the doorway, the ghost of a smile_  
 _Haunting her face like a cheap hotel sign." _

The force of the bullets send her back, slamming against the front door. The air leaves her lungs in a breathy gasp before her knees give out and she once again slides to the ground. She can't keep the low moan from escaping her lips as explosions of pain hit chest.

"Put the gun down, agent." his voice is soft, but cold and calculating. It's eerie, really. Emily finds it harder to breathe with each passing second. Every inhale is slightly restricted by the vest and cut short by stabbing pain that shoots through her ribs. When she doesn't let go of the gun, he gives her no more warning, but pulls the trigger once more. This time Emily lets out a sort of guttural whimper – a jerk reaction to the sudden blow to her abdomen. Her grip on the gun loosens. She tries to regain her breath as she recovers from the blinding pain, but slumps down a little further, and feels herself begin to tremble as shock takes its grip. With four point blank shots to the vest, she's not sure how much more she can take before passing out into oblivion.

Garcia almost screams at the sound of gunfire as it so suddenly interrupts the tense silence. She covers her mouth, only just hearing Emily slam into something and slide to the ground. Two shots. The UnSub is too close to miss this time, and Penelope fully expects her Raven-haired warrior to be lying dead on the ground. All she can do is wait inside this stuffy coat closet, wondering if she would be next.

The small slits in the door, like wooden blinds allow her only so much visual access to the hall and living room, but right now the UnSub blocks her view of Emily. She looks for pooling or blood splatter but finds none. That does little to soothe her until she hears the UnSub's voice.

"Let go of the gun…" Is he talking to Emily? She jumps at the sound of another gunshot. Emily's cry is strained and muffled but unmistakably hers. She's alive, but Garcia's relief is cut short as she remembers that her friend had still been shot four times. When the UnSub moves, Garcia can finally make Emily out. She is slumped against the front door. She can just see the bullets embedded in her Kevlar, glinting in the fading light of the hall, and fights the sudden anger that brought tears to her eyes.

The sick bastard was aiming for the vest.

He picks up Emily's gun and bends over to search her. She appears to be struggling against her attacker, but muffled groans and whimpers of pain tell Garcia that it won't do much good. Emily's breath keeps catching as he roughly drags his hands over her body, until he finally finds what he needed. It looks like he's holding her credentials.

"Emily" Garcia can just hear the sadistic smiling in his voice. He leans over and gives her a pat on the cheek.

"Doesn't sound like a name for a federal agent" He laughs. "Wait here" he says softly, before turning to search around the house. It's a couple minutes before he comes back, but Garcia dares not move. All she can hear is Emily's ragged breathing as she desperately tries to keep her claim on consciousness. The heavy sound of footsteps soon returns.

"So, Emily," says the man. Emily doesn't respond. Once again, he blocks Garcia's view. "Where's your friend?" This time it's Garcia's breath that catches in the silence.

"What… friend?" Emily's voice reveals the pain she's in – strained and slightly wavering, but still strong. Garcia's hand goes straight to her mouth when he moves forward and grabs a fistful of hair, throwing her to the living room floor like a ragdoll, another low moan escaping her lips.

"The one with the big purple bag sitting on the kitchen table, Emily." He says like an authority figure holding onto his last ounce of patience. Garcia feels like she's going to be sick.

"That's my… bag" Emily breathes. She's cut off by another sound. The sickening impact of his foot and her ribs. Garcia knows it had to be her imagination, but she could have sworn she heard a crack. Emily curls into herself letting out another guttural groan.

Garcia remembers not too long ago when Reid finally ended up in her lair one day. He looked lost as he described a rough night, reliving his encounter with Cyrus – having to listen to her being dragged away and beaten. He said it was like every time he heard her cry out and he was so close but so unable to do anything, he felt some part of him die. Like his humanity was being taken away bit by bit because as much as he wanted to, he made no effort to stop it. She told him that he shouldn't feel that way – that it was ridiculous because what could he have done? The both of them would have likely been killed, and Reid could never have gotten the information they needed to get everyone out safely. Emily did what she had to do to let Reid do what he had to do. She took one for the team, and that wasn't up to him. Garcia finally understood what he meant. Every kick, every shot, every whimper slowly ate at her, and not only did she hear it, she had a front row seat. She understood what she needed to do, but why did it seem like it was always Emily taking one for the team? He pulls out Emily's credentials again.

"I found this" He says, all but shoving this new item in her face, "in the purse." Not Emily's credentials. _Hers_. "And unless your name is _Penelope Garcia_ I would say you're lying to me." He hisses, kneeling down and grabbing another fistful of hair to raise her head and torso off the floor. She whimpers again, this time sounding weaker. "Where is she?" he growls

"Gone" Emily croaked "Went to get… back up" it wasn't a total lie. Unfortunately the little closet is terrible for cell reception and she's still trying to get the text out to Morgan. A phone call seems completely out of the question. At this point everything rested on him getting back before the UnSub got bored and decided he wanted to Kill Emily. And then, hopefully enough on his toes to sense something was very wrong.

Garcia is able to catch a glimpse of Emily's face which is contorted in pain as she struggles with the UnSub's grip on her scalp. He doesn't look at all satisfied with her answer but he releases his grip, and with a soft gasp, she falls limp to the ground, unable to support her upper body. Her eyes are shut tight as she tries to compartmentalize the pain. The UnSub slowly stands and looks around. His next word sends chills straight down Garcia's spine.

"Penelope" His voice holds a soft, almost sing-song tone. Emily's eyes open just a crack, nervous energy growing behind their brown depths.

"Penelope" He calls again, walking around the house. He disappears into the kitchen again and she hears this rummaging in the drawers, like he's fishing for utensils. Garcia looks down at her phone and is surprised to see two bars. She wastes no time in sending the message she'd already typed out and hopes Morgan will hurry because it's a safe bet this UnSub is searching for a knife.

* * *

Morgan had just gotten into the car, trying to keep his mouth from watering at the smell of their food in the passenger seat. With the rut they were stuck in, hopefully their spirits would be lifted and a bit more motivated with some food in their system. He started the car and moved to put it in reverse when his text alert went off. His heart nearly stopped when he read what was on the screen:

\- UNSUB AT THE HOUSE. PRENTISS INJURED PLS HURRY

All thoughts of food forgotten, Morgan sped back to the safe house, hoping he wouldn't be too late.

* * *

Emily can hardly breathe, hell, she can hardly think about anything past the pain that rises and peaks and falls to a dull throb before rising and peaking again, sending stabbing, blinding, all consuming pain through her body with every micro movement. That all turns to paralyzing fear upon hearing his eerie call to Garcia. Her eyes crack open just slightly in time to see him disappear into the hall, and then finally rest on the closet just beyond the entrance to the living room. She hopes he won't find her. Her vision darkens again as she fades into the world of unconsciousness, but once she opens her eyes, he's coming back, this time the glint of a knife is all that catches her attention.

"Alright" He sighs, kneeling down beside her. He looks at her with the strangest gentleness in his eyes. She knows its purpose is to create a sense of security. She knows better than to fall for it. He lifts her into his lap, cradling her in his arms like he's trying to comfort her. The look in his eyes sends tremors down her spine, and she flinches from his touch as he brushes the stray strands of ebony hair from her face.

"My partner's coming… back any… minute" She struggles through staggering breaths. "He'll find… you" He shook his head and smiles softly down at her.

"And by then, he'll be too distracted by your bleeding body on the floor to see me coming" He chuckles.

Emily almost laughs. Does this man actually think Morgan would come panicked and rushing to her side before clearing the house? No, there is no damsel in distress in this life, no hero coming to the rescue. No glamour. This is the job, and they know how to handle it. It's what she loves about her partnership with Morgan. As much as they care about each other, they knew how important it was to follow protocol lest the situation turn worse. They trust each other enough to make the difficult decisions.

The UnSub pulls out the knife he grabbed from the kitchen, laying his hand on her chest, running over the metallic bullets still lodged in her Kevlar. She shivers under his touch.

"Funny" he utters softly "How something that's supposed to protect you from harm can cause you so much pain." He chuckles, lifting the knife and resting the point softly on the fabric of her Kevlar; the point touches her side just above the hip.

She can't suppress the violent racing of her heart, the rapid, shallow, painful breaths that follow in dreaded anticipation of what he's about to do.

"It's beautiful watching you squirm." He begins to put pressure on the knife, eyes glowing in his own anticipation as it breaks through the vest and begins to tear through the fabric of her shirt. Emily tries to keep her movements as minimal as possible as the cold steel touches her skin. She reaches up, feebly grabbing his hands as if to stop him, but that only seems to excite him more.

She gasps as the knife breaks through the surface tension of the skin and then further down. This time the pain is white hot. The knife slowly slides into her abdomen and she can't stifle the agonized whimpering that escapes her lips through every gasp until the knife plunges further in and she chokes on them. The warm liquid spreads, blossoming in a sickening red that darkens her vest and stains her white shirt. She lets out a low strangled cry as he twists the knife before ripping it from her body. After a few moments of agonizing, choking breaths, her eyes begin to roll back as the pain becomes too much. He shakes his head and smiles.

"No one's coming for you, Emily."

The both of them jump when a sudden crash comes from down the hall. He smiles devilishly as Emily's eyes flicked toward the stairs, fear finally furrowing her brow.

"I think Penelope wants to play" He gets up and heads for the stairs.

* * *

 _Okay, this is chapter two. Hopefully you guys enjoyed it. I picked up the pace a bit obviously. My decision to write in present tense was kind of a tenuous one. I don't usually do it, but as I neared the end of the story, it began to come a bit more naturally with the pacing. I want this to feel a bit more 'in the moment' and I'm hoping I accomplished that. Any discrepancies with the tense I'm writing in is mostly due to the fact that I had to change it for the first half of the story to keep it consistently in present tense. I may have missed some stuff._

 _Morgan will be back for the next chapter, I believe_ _J_ _Enjoy your week._


	3. Chapter 3

**I should just stop promising regular updates - I'm less likely to post, especially when miss a deadline I've set for myself. Then I'm just like, well, I missed it so what's the point, hah. Anyways, I hope you enjoy chapter 3. I got pretty motivated when I found out Prentiss will be returning for an episode this season :) I've been trolling the internet for the latest news cause I'm an obsessive psycho. P.S. sorry for errors I really wanted to get this up cause I've made y'all wait long enough. Thanks for the amazing reviews guys.**

 **CHAPTER 3**

"Ooooh, mother, am I really dying?" 

"Have you heard from Prentiss or Garcia yet?" Aaron Hotchner begins to grow uneasy, and JJ's expression doesn't help much. He already knows the answer before she shakes her head.

"Last time they checked in, Morgan was getting lunch. Prentiss and Garcia aren't answering but I haven't tried Morgan yet."

"See if you can reach him,"

JJ is dialing before he finishes his sentence and he allows himself to have a bit more hope. They hadn't been gone for too long, but what troubles him is their failure to answer his calls. They had been waiting for their UnSub to make contact, and he's afraid he finally had.

"No answer yet?" The deputy's voice sounds behind him. When Hotch shakes his head, the younger man sighs, "You know, I can send out a few patrol cars just in case." Hotch seems to consider the offer, but before he answers, his phone is ringing. He looks at the caller ID and is relieved when it's Morgan's name on the screen.

"I need an update on Prentiss and Garcia, they aren't answering—"

"Hotch, the UnSub's there – he's got Emily. Garcia sent me a text but I tried to call her and it went straight to voice mail. I'm on my way to the house now, but send back up as soon as you can."

"Okay, we're coming. Morgan, I need you to wait for backup," He can feel Morgan's frustration brewing on the other line.

"Hotch you know I can't do that." Before he can protest, he hears the soft beeping, indicating the call has ended. He looks to the Deputy.

"Send out those cars, now. He's at your house."

Garcia is an absolute disaster in the closet. Seeing the team come back from cases hurt or in the hospital usually makes her sick with worry but watching it happen and being helpless to stop it is something she never fathomed she'd have to do. If she survived this, Emily's whimpers, the agony in her face, the begging in her eyes as he slowly shoved the knife into her body, would be in her nightmares until she died. Her hand, which covered her mouth is wet with tears.

 _Where is Morgan_? She can't think of what could happen if he doesn't make it back in time… she isn't sure how long Emily has. Garcia has to do something before the UnSub kills her. She peers through the slits in the blinds of the closet door toward the stairs across the hall and an idea strikes her.

She takes off her shoe and cracks open the door, one eye on the UnSub and Emily, flinching as he ripps the knife from her. It looks like he was about to stab her again, so she takes her chance. She throws the shoe as high as she can, retreating quickly but silently back into the closet before it lands. And when it does, it hits the second landing of the stairs with a crash.

She hears him utter a few more words before standing, letting Emily crumple back to the ground.

"I think Penelope wants to play…" his words send shivers through her body. She freezes when he comes close to the closet and pauses. She can see his form through the cracks in the door and she's plastered against the far wall, chest growing tight as her heart races violently. He lingers for a moment before finally walking back up. She releases a trembling breath and wipes furiously at her eyes before any more tears can fall.

When he is out of sight, she leaves the closet and hurries toward Emily, ignoring the incessant buzzing of alerts on her phone as the signal returns. She says nothing, knowing he was upstairs, close enough to hear, but kneels down beside her. She's pale, brown eyes clouded and unfocused, thought hey still shift toward her as she approached. Relief etched onto her features.

"I th-thought he wa-was gon-na f-find you" She whispers through clenched teeth. Garcia just shakes her head, gently shushing Emily as she takes off her sweater to put pressure on the wound. Emily's face contorts in agony, and she stifles a high pitched whimper. Her whole torso is likely a mess of broken ribs and contusions. They hear footsteps crashing around upstairs. Garcia's hand already feels wet as the blood soaks quickly through her thin sweater. She wants to remove the Kevlar but knows the straps would make too much noise.

"What do we do?" She asks, almost to herself.

"my…my gun is-s on the t-tab-ble" Emily chokes, her hand moving toward the sweater so she could keep the pressure while Garcia moves across the room to get it. Emily's breath keeps hitching as she struggles to keep her focus. She reaches for the gun and Garcia helped her grip the cold metal, at the same time, trying to support Emily in a slightly sitting position. Garcia wonders how in the world Emily would be able to use it. " 's Morgan coming?" She all but whimpered. Garcia opens her mouth and as if on cue, the room is flooded with headlights. Emily's eyes squint shut at the harsh light, though she lets out a short breath of relief.

A few moments later, the door opens and Morgan is already in a defensive stance. It doesn't take him long to see them in the living room. His eyes are livid at the sight of Emily on the floor. He quickly looks toward Garcia, his eyes questioning for information.

"Upstairs, Morgan, He's upstairs" Garcia's quiet panicked whisper is barely audible. Emily begins to shiver.

Morgan disappeared upstairs and Garcia's heart clenches.

"Garc-cia.. I n-need you to… help me" She pauses, another wave of pain enveloping her and she gasps with it. Garcia's panic grew, "… with th-the gun"

"Em" Garcia's heart nearly stops "I don't—I can't do that, I can't shoot someone!" Her voice trembles as a fresh set of tears fell from her eyes. "Plus Morgan's already up there" She protests weakly.

Emily takes a gasping breath,

"With—without backup" comes her grave reminder.

Garcia falls silent.

"Not as-asking you… to p-pull the trig-ger j-just hold my..." she gasps through another wave of pain. She's weakening quickly. "n-need to aim…my arm" is all she can get out, gasping with the effort.

"Alright, alright I'm doing it, but Em, stop talking, please, it's killing you!" Garcia cries softly. Emily's nod in response is barely noticeable. Garcia jumps at the sound of gunshots. Emily's eyes flicker toward the stairs. The sound of a body falling to the ground follows, and finally, footsteps rush down the stairs.

Garcia braces Emily's arm so she can aim, not even sure if the agent can see straight to get a good shot, but it's the last chance they have. Suddenly, Morgan comes into view. Emily closes her eyes in relief and Garcia actually lets out a call of surprise, thankful that she isn't the one with her finger on the trigger.

Emily's already loose grip releases the gun and it clatters to the ground. Morgan rushes toward them.

"What the hell happened?" He demands, eyes wild with worry.

"The UnSubFoundUsAndShotEmilyInTheChestABunchOfTimesAndThenHeStabbedHer!"

"Okay, okay" Morgan's voice takes on a comforting tone, "We can discuss the details later, an ambulance is on the way."

"Morgan can you get more towels from the kitchen? She's bleeding through my sweater." Garcia composed herself enough at least for Emily's sake. She begins to shift in discomfort, soft choking sounds coming from her, almost as though she can't breathe.

"Emily?" Garcia's voice perks in a sudden panic. "What is it, honey, what do you need?" She tries to make herself sound comforting to hide the full blown panic she's now enduring. Emily's hands just reach for the straps of her Kevlar, desperately trying to pry it off, but too weak to make any headway.

"You want the vest off," Garcia is already moving to undo the straps "I've got you," She says softly, her voice slightly trembling.

"P-please" is all Emily can say through clenched teeth to confirm her need.

Morgan is already rushing back into the room, and Garcia quickly gives him the command to help her with the vest, all the while keeping the new cloth compressed to Emily's still bleeding wound. Everything around them seems to be soaked with a deep red. Her breath hitches a few times as they shift her position to get it off, but she seems to breathe again once she's free. Her shirt is drenched and plastered to her body.

Morgan gently wraps his arms around her shoulders and lowers her to the ground.

"Here, lift her legs, we need to keep them elevated." He says, trying to ignore his own rising panic. Emily keeps making these eerie choking noises. Her lips begin to stain red as the blood tries to find another way out. She swallows, pain filled eyes glancing up at them.

"How b- h-how bad-d is-s it?" She's choking on her own breath. Her feet are propped on Garcia's lap while Morgan sits beside her, trying to offer her support, but the bleeding won't stop. _Where's that damn ambulance?_

"Emily, hey look at me" He tries to keep his voice level, giving her something to hold onto. She's trembling violently as her body begins to shut down. Her breathing is violent and shallow, but she looks at him, and there's a sort of fear in her eyes. "Everything's gonna be alright, you understand?" He wipes a few sweat dampened strands from her pale face. "Just hang in there, alright? Help is on the way, just stay awake for me, baby, please," She coughs and blood speckles her lips, but she nods almost imperceptibly. Garcia's expression is indescribable. She isn't supposed to see this kind of thing. She's staring a wide eyed, frightened, blank stare at Emily, seeming to be lost for words. Then there is a sound. Morgan thinks his heart might actually stop.

Sirens. They grow louder with each passing second.

He quickly grabs onto her shaking hand, and though he's stilled it, he can still feel the tremors deep inside her muscles. His other grows wet with the blood that's already soaking through the towel.

Her choking becomes more frequent and more urgent, and when she coughs, a small amount of blood spills from her mouth. He lifts her head onto his lap so she doesn't choke on it.

"God," She chokes through clenched teeth. Eyes squinting shut as the pain becomes unbearable. Though her hands are still trembling, he feels her grip tighten. She's afraid.

Blinding lights fill the darkened living room as the ambulance arrives. Morgan thinks he sees the red and blue of the Bureau SUV's as well. Emily releases a high pitched moan, her breath coming heavy and quick – something was wrong. Tears spill from her eyes as she shuts them tight again.

"Morgan?" Came Garcia's panicked sob.

"Emily, stay with me"

Her eyes begin to roll back, and the room erupts into chaos.


End file.
